Reliving History
by webbswoman
Summary: Mickey recieves a phone call that has devastating consequences. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or anything else relating to 'The Bill'. If I did then every episode would be full of Mickey and I wouldn't need to write this.**

**Warnings: This story will feature adult themes. They are: child abuse, sexual abuse and mild violence. Please don't read if you are offended by any of these subjects.**

**AN: I've been working on this story for well over a year. It was originally intended to be a rewrite of a previously posted story, but it's changed so much that it isn't recognisable.**

**And most importantly, I would like to say a huge thank you to Rose (snowfilly) who has been the best beta reader a writer could ask for. **

**Reliving History**

Chapter 1

Mickey handed over the money to the barman and headed back over to the table where his colleagues and friends were sat. He put the tray of drinks in the middle of the table and waited patiently while everybody got their drinks. Mickey picked up his water and took a sip.

"You not having a beer, Mickey?" Smithy was watching him with a surprised look in his eyes. For a moment Mickey was annoyed, it wasn't like he had to have a drink. But then he realised that the others had similar expressions on their faces. Mickey shook his head, silently ashamed at himself. Ever since he had returned to Sun Hill he had been drinking heavily, using alcohol to try and numb the pain, help him forget the memories. He had been arriving at work tired and hung-over, and he had snapped at anyone who had dared to question him about his drinking. But then Jack had asked him to stop, so he had stopped. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol for the past week, and had been feeling a lot better because of it. His colleagues were still watching him, confused.

"I'm driving, ain't I? Besides I don't want a hangover in the mornin'." Smithy nodded, but didn't look convinced. Mickey couldn't help but admit to himself that a beer would be welcome after the weekend that he'd had, but he had promised Jack.

The conversation at the table resumed and Mickey listened in mild amusement as Stuart and Jo traded insults. He looked around the table. At one time looking around he would have seen Kate, Cass Rickman, Dave Quinnan, Matt, Jack, Duncan and Danny. Now some of them were dead, some had turned corrupt, and some of them were working in different departments. The only ones who remained were Jack and Smithy. Except that Jack never came out for drinks anymore, not when there was a whole group of them going. Mickey sighed, missing the easy friendship that he had once shared with the DCI. Nowadays, although they were still friends, it was a lot more strained, and Jack seemed to be more conscious about keeping distance between them at work, which had made Mickey's return to Sun Hill even harder than he had anticipated.

Mickey shook himself; it was no use dwelling on the past. Besides, looking around he realised that he still had a good group of friends, even if he didn't feel quite as much a part of the group as he would have liked. Smithy, who had been there through thick and through thin – although nowadays Mickey felt awkward when alone with the sergeant, he still couldn't forget the fact that it was Smithy who had seen him at his most vulnerable. Next to Smithy sat Jo and Terry, all three were excellent officers, and Mickey knew that they would watch his back, both on and off the job. There were a few other people there too, members of uniform who were good people: Will, Beth, Roger and Nate. The problem was that, apart from Smithy, none of them really knew what he had gone through at the hands of Delaney, though Mickey was sure that some of them would have heard the rumours.

They couldn't understand why he was so cautious, in fact Mickey had been shouted at only yesterday by Stuart because he had hesitated before chasing a suspect, and had consequently lost him. Mickey looked over the table at Stuart and sighed, the two of them had never really hit it off; Mickey had been too friendly with Phil for Stuart to even consider him as a mate.

A phone rang, it took Mickey a few seconds to realise that the unfamiliar ring tone was his. He'd only bought it a week ago.

"Yeah, this is Mickey Webb." Nobody replied, whoever was on the other end of the line stayed silent. "Hello, can I help?" A few more seconds passed and Mickey was about to hang up when the person spoke.

"Hello DC Webb." Mickey almost dropped his phone at the sound of the voice. It was the voice that he heard in his nightmares. The one that haunted him when he was alone. It was the one that he had never wanted to hear again.

"Leave me the hell alone!" Mickey hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He stood up and began to walk shakily towards the door. Voices called after him but he ignored them, he had to get to safety: he had to get to Jack.

The cold air hit him and he realised that he'd left his jacket inside; he patted his jeans, trying to determine what was in the pockets, he still had his phone and his keys. Taking the keys out he staggered towards his car and fumbled with them as he tried to put them into the ignition; they finally went in and he sped away, holding his breath to try and stop the tears from falling.

* * *

The remaining occupants of the table watched the door swing shut, and then looked at each other, perplexed.

"I'll go and find out what's wrong." Smithy stood, grabbed Mickey's jacket and strode towards the door, picking up his pace as he did so. He didn't know what direction Mickey had gone in, but remembered that Mickey had said he was driving. Smithy headed for the car park. He got there just in time to see Mickey's car pulling away. Smithy took out his phone and began running towards his own car, whilst dialling a number. Terry answered on the second ring.

"Terry, he's driven away. I'm going around to his place to see if he's there, if not I'll take a look around. I need to find out what's wrong with him, see you tomorrow." Smithy stopped only to listen to the reply before throwing his phone and jacket on the front passenger seat of his car and pulling away himself. Something was up with his friend, and he was going to find out exactly what was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews for chapter one, they were all lovely to receive.**

Chapter 2

Mickey had been driving for ten minutes before he realised that there was nowhere to go - Jack was away on a course and wouldn't be back until Wednesday, three days away. He pulled over to the side of the road, exhaling deeply to try and calm himself down. Looking around he tried to figure out where he was. With a start, he realised that he was outside his old football club; he hadn't played since he had been transferred to MIT. He needed fresh air, needed to clear his head; he had his hand on the handle, about to open the door when he froze. He couldn't get out of the car - what if _he_ was out there?

The hand moved from the handle to the lock and he pressed down, making sure that nobody could get into his car. He took out his phone and looked at the call history; _he _had withheld the number, which meant that the call hadn't come from the prison. Delaney was out. He brought Jack's mobile number up, his finger lingered over the call button. But before he could press it his phone began to ring once more. Once again the ID was withheld. Mickey hesitated for a moment; not sure whether he should just ignore it, but he pressed accept. He needed some answers.

"Mickey Webb." For the second time Mickey was greeted by silence. "D-delaney?" Mickey inwardly cursed himself for stuttering, for showing that he was frightened.

"Clever boy. Hanging up on me wasn't so clever. Aren't you going to congratulate me? I've been released; the funny thing is I wasn't supposed to be. It was a clerical error, but they can't put me back inside now, not for the same crime, and I've not even got any parole conditions because according to the database I've served my entire sentence."

"You'll be back inside b-before l-long, you c-can be sure about that."

Delaney laughed.

"But that's where you're wrong DC Webb, because according to the law, I'm a free man. I'll be in touch soon." There was a click and then Mickey heard the dial tone. He threw his phone onto the seat next to him and rested his head on the steering wheel, whimpering in terror.

Delaney had been let out, he had no parole conditions, and there was nothing he or anybody else could do about it.

He didn't want to go home; he had recently moved, but Delaney had found out where he lived before, and Mickey knew that he could do it again. Starting the engine once more Mickey began to drive, not really knowing where he was heading.

* * *

Smithy sat down on Mickey's front step, trying to figure out where his friend could be. When he had pulled up in front of the house he hadn't seen Mickey's car, but had rang the bell anyway, hoping that Mickey had just parked somewhere else. There had been no answer, and there were no lights on. The sergeant glanced at his watch, it was 3 am, so not many places would be open. He had tried calling Mickey's mobile, but had got no answer. The way Mickey had ran off worried him, what worried him even more was that the last time he had seen Mickey look so scared, Delaney had escaped from jail.

Smithy knew that if he did manage to find his friend it was going to be nearly impossible to get Mickey to open up to him; ever since Delaney Mickey had shut himself off, keeping his problems and feelings to himself. Smithy still considered Mickey to be one of his best friends, but he would be the first to admit that he didn't know the DC as well as he had used to. He wished he did.

He stood up, sighing as he did so and headed back to his car, he would drive around for a bit to see if he could see Mickey. If he couldn't find his friend he would just have to try again later in the morning.

* * *

Mickey had ended up back at the station, and was sitting at his desk in the empty CID office. He had spent the last hour clearing his desk and filing paperwork, a task that he hated and had been long overdue. The top of the desk had been scattered with paperwork on current cases, it was now clear apart from one file. The first drawer was where Mickey kept the memories: numbers of colleagues that he used to work with, along with scraps of paper telling him where they were now. A notebook with information on his informants – some of them old school friends of his. There were even a few photographs; Mickey with Duncan, Mickey with Jack, Mickey with Kate.

But it was the bottom drawer that had upset him. He had pulled it open, confident that all it contained was a few old case files and dust. Delaney's face had sneered out at him. He had forgotten that he had placed the file there a while back. The file was on his desk, in front of him. Mickey hadn't yet opened it, instead he was staring at the photo of Delaney, but he was seeing something else, something that had happened long ago. Mickey ran a shaky hand through his hair, and then grabbed the file, throwing it back into the drawer that it had come out of. He stood and walked over to the water dispenser, filling a cup and drinking it all down in one. Images of a warehouse flashed through Mickey's mind. The phone on his desk began to ring, startling Mickey out of his thoughts and he answered it, eager for a distraction.

"Yeah, DC Webb, how can I help?"

"You're all alone." Mickey trembled at Delaney's words, and then reasoned with himself. It was 4:30 in the morning, it was pretty obvious that he would be by himself; Delaney had just made a lucky guess. "You always were dedicated to your work." Mickey could have kicked himself; Delaney had known where to ring him, so of course he knew where he was. The phone fell from his hand as he rushed to the windows and pulled the blinds down. He got himself another glass of water and again, drank it down in one, trying to figure out what to do, and then it hit him.

Jack wasn't there, but there was still one place in the station that Mickey nearly always felt safe in. Years ago, when they had been trying to expose Chandler, Jack had given him a spare key to his office, just in case. Mickey always kept it in his desk and taking it out he headed for the office, unlocked the door and then locked himself inside. He sat down in Jack's chair and tried not to think about the bottle of whisky that he knew Jack kept hidden in one of the drawers. Looking around, Mickey shivered. The blinds were pulled down, and he was in a place where he usually felt safe but it didn't make him feel any better.

He was being watched.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Chapter 3

Smithy's frown deepened as he looked around the station canteen. He had been unable to find Mickey the night before, and had decided to speak to the DC at work the next day. The problem was he couldn't find him anywhere - the CID office, the toilets, the canteen - and Smithy was worried. Mickey had only disappeared once before, and despite the frantic search, it had been Meadows who found him. He had returned to the station, Meadows supporting him and gently leading him into the DCI's office to take his statement. Mickey still wasn't answering his mobile, and Smithy was seriously thinking about getting in touch with Meadows.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Smithy spun around and almost bumped into Reg who was standing behind him.

"What?"

"A penny for your thoughts. Is everything alright?"

Smithy shook his head. "A friend's gone missing."

"Mickey?"

Smithy looked at the older man, confused. "How do you know?"

"Beth told me he ran out of the pub last night."

"Oh." Smithy nodded.

"I told her not to talk to anyone else about it. If I were you, and I was looking for Mickey I'd think about what's important to him."

Smithy couldn't help but laugh.

"I doubt he's at the football pitch." As soon as the words left his mouth Smithy realised how ridiculous they were - Mickey hadn't played football in five years, ever since Delaney.

"Actually, I meant family; Mickey's always struck me as a family man." He placed a comforting hand on Smithy's shoulder then walked back over to the table where he, Roger and Tony were sitting. Smithy's eyes widened in comprehension and he ran outside, stopping suddenly when he saw Mickey's car in the car park.

_Family._ His first thought had been the churchyard where Mickey's mum was buried, but now Smithy realised that Mickey had family right in the station. Smithy hurried back inside, went upstairs to CID, stopping outside the DCI's office. He pushed the handle down and found that the door was locked.

"Mickey, can you open the door?"

* * *

On the other side of the door Mickey began to wake up. He had drifted off some time during the night and the sound of Smithy's voice had startled him. He stood up, knowing that there was no other way out of the office. The lock clicked open and he opened the door and looked sheepishly at Smithy.

"Sorry." He stood back to allow the sergeant in and shut the door behind him. He hadn't even thought to call anyone and let them know that he was alright.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Mickey looked down at the floor and shook his head.

"I can't help you unless you do."

"I'm sorry I ran off like that."

"That's alright, Mickey, I want to help."

_No-one can help me now, _Mickey thought to himself.

"Mickey?"

Mickey looked up at Smithy and saw the concern in his eyes. He began to walk towards the door, knowing that he couldn't tell Smithy what had upset him, couldn't tell him how easily Delaney had gotten to him. His hand was already on the door handle when he turned back to Smithy.

"Look, nothin's wrong, I-I've got to go. I'll speak to you later."

Smithy watched sadly as Mickey rushed from the room; he hadn't been able to get through to the DC. He knew that there was only one more thing that he could do to help his friend. He bowed his head, knowing that yet again he was going behind his friend's back to help him. Picking up the phone from Jack's desk he pressed the speed dial button that would get him through to the DCI himself.

* * *

His phone began to ring for the third time; whoever was calling him was certainly persistent. Jack cursed; he had been looking forward to this course for months, and it was being ruined by whoever was ringing him. The woman who was running the course glanced over at him, an annoyed look on her face. He couldn't ignore it any longer; excusing himself, he left the room and looked to see who was calling him. The call was coming from his office.

"Jack Meadows, who's calling?"

"It's Smithy, Guv, I know you're on a course but this is important."

Jack's heart skipped a beat; _had someone been hurt? Had Mickey been hurt?_

"What's the matter?"

"It's Mickey."

Jack's heart sank; there were so many things that could go wrong when you were a police officer working on the streets, so many things that he couldn't protect Mickey from.

"What about Mickey? Has he been hurt?"

"No, well, I don't really know. Physically he's fine, but something's wrong. He got a phone call last night and rushed out of the pub. Locked 'imself in your office, did a runner when I found 'im. I'm really worried."

The relief that Jack had felt at discovering that Mickey wasn't hurt was short-lived. He couldn't help wondering if Mickey had started to drink again, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Mickey had promised, and Jack trusted him.

"Where is he now?"

"I dunno, Guv; I couldn't get through to him, that's why I called you."

Jack considered for a moment, and then made a decision; the course could wait, but Mickey couldn't.

"Okay, Smithy, I'm leaving the course early, I should be back in London by this afternoon."

"Thanks, Guv, see you soon."

Jack closed his phone and started walking to the reception to tell them that he was going to have to leave. He had to help Mickey, find out what was wrong with him; he only hoped that Mickey would accept his help.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mickey had decided to risk going back to his house; he hadn't really had anywhere else to go. He had driven around for a while, past all of his old haunts, but had quickly realised that he couldn't do that all day. Besides, he had reasoned that if Delaney was watching him then the house would be just as safe as anywhere else. The front door was double locked and bolted, as was the back door; with a small sigh of relief he finished checking the last of the windows. There was no way Delaney would be able to get in.

He ran down the stairs, two at a time, and headed into his small kitchen, in search of something to eat. He pulled open the fridge door, and stopped. He hadn't had much of a chance to go shopping over the past couple of weeks, and the contents of his fridge were meagre. This meant that he could see right to the back, where there was a bottle of unopened wine. It was Mia's favourite brand, he had bought it just before they had broken up, and had forgotten all about it.

A few minutes later he was sitting in his living room with a glass of the wine in his hand. Mickey took a sip, and then looked up at the photo on his mantelpiece. It had been taken about six months after Chandler had committed suicide, when his friendship with Jack had been at its peak. The DCI had refused to have a party to celebrate his birthday, so Mickey had cooked a meal for him and a few other close friends at Jack's house. Not many people knew about Mickey's secret talent: cooking. He hadn't had the happiest childhood, and he had learned to fend for himself at an early age. His mother had tried her best, but her job at the local bar had meant that he had been left alone with his abusive father at night times. Cooking for himself had made sure he'd got something to eat – and filled some of the long hours while his father had been passed out, drunk. And Jack, being Jack, had found out and not laughed at him.

After the meal, the group had sat around and talked about anything and everything. Duncan Lennox had taken the photo, insisting that the DCI needed a picture with Mickey. Standing up from his spot on the couch Mickey walked over to the mantelpiece and turned the frame around, so that he couldn't see the photo.

"Don't judge me, Jack." Mickey mumbled under his breath before returning to the couch.

* * *

Jack pulled up on the street outside Mickey's house, sighing in relief as he saw Mickey's car parked opposite. The DCI glanced at his watch, 2:30. The traffic on the way back to London had been bad, and he had taken longer to arrive than he would have liked, but he was there now and he couldn't afford to waste anymore time. He got out of his car, headed up the path and rang the door bell.

Two minutes later, Mickey still hadn't come to the door, and Jack was getting anxious. He rang the door bell again and knocked for good measure. There was a muffled shout from inside and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Jack frowned as he heard the bolts slide back and the sound of numerous locks being opened, it had been a long time since Mickey had felt the need to secure his house so much during the daytime. The door swung open and Jack couldn't help but gasp. Mickey looked like he hadn't slept in days; his face was pale and as he stood aside to let Jack in his eyes darted about nervously.

As soon as Jack was inside Mickey slammed the door shut and began to secure it again. Without speaking Mickey walked back into his living room, swaying slightly. Jack followed. The DCI frowned when he saw the glass of wine sitting on the table, and his frown grew deeper when he saw the half empty bottle that was on the floor next to the couch.

"I'm sorry."

Jack turned to look at Mickey, and any anger that he had felt at seeing the wine disappeared. The DC was standing next to the window, a guilty expression on his face.

"It's okay, Mickey. Just tell me what's wrong." Mickey turned to look out of the window and Jack walked over to stand beside him.

"Jack, I don't know what to do. I-" Mickey was cut off by the phone ringing; the DC made no move to answer it so Jack picked it up.

"Hello, Mickey Webb's house, can I ask who's calling?"

"DCI Meadows, I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Delaney." Mickey's head shot up and Jack guessed from the look on his face that this wasn't the first time Delaney had called.

"Correct. Could you put DC Webb on please?"

"You're not speaking to him, stay away. If you so much as think about him again you'll regret it." Jack slammed the phone down, regretting the action when he saw Mickey wince at the loud noise.

Mickey turned back to the window, jumping when he felt Jack's hand on his shoulder. The DCI snatched his hand away.

"Mickey, we need to inform the station that he's escaped, you should of-"

"He hasn't escaped, 'e was let out," Mickey turned to face Jack, "And he hasn't got any parole conditions or anythin'."

" I don't understand."

"Y'want to know what I don't understand? I don't understand how the system could have screwed up so badly, I don't understan' how they could have let 'im out by mistake, and I don't understand why they can't just lock him up again," Mickey's voice had risen and he was shouting. "And I don't bloody understand why people like him ain't given life."

Jack didn't know what to say, because he couldn't understand it either. He hated Delaney, hated what he'd done to Mickey, hated the fact that Mickey had changed. But he knew that Mickey didn't need to hear about his own problems. His thoughts were interrupted by quiet sobbing, and Jack's fatherly instincts took over. He took a gentle hold of Mickey's arm, leading him over to the couch. Then he pulled him into a comforting embrace; the DC stiffened momentarily and then relaxed, burying his head deep in Jack's shoulder, and feeling safer than he had in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. They are really appreciated. **

Chapter 5

Jack looked down at the sleeping man in his arms and sighed. Mickey had finally fallen asleep, but there was a deep frown on the DC's face. Jack knew that Mickey had a tough time ahead, and he also knew that the DC was going to need his help to get through it. He owed it to Mickey. He was going to protect Mickey from Delaney no matter what.

Ever since Mickey had returned to Sun Hill, he had been keeping his distance, and instead of trying to get Mickey to open up to him he had been welcoming the distance, thinking that it would be easier on Mickey not to endure the comments from the others about their friendship. Now he knew that he had been wrong; at one time Mickey would have called him the moment something happened. Jack brushed a gentle hand over Mickey's forehead. Mickey had probably got the impression that he didn't care anymore, and that wasn't true.

The sun had been up for a while when Mickey began to stir. Jack had stayed awake all night, determined to be there for the DC when he woke up.

"Mmph," Mickey sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm getting too old for sleeping on a couch."

Jack laughed. "If you're too old what does that make me?"

Mickey looked at him and grinned, deciding not to answer that question. The DC stood and headed into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two cups of coffee.

Jack took his gratefully and moved over so that Mickey had a bit more room to sit down.

"Thanks, for last night, I mean, I don't make a habit of breaking down like that." Mickey looked away, embarrassed.

"Any time Mickey, you know that."

The DC turned back towards the DCI and nodded. "I'm just gonna 'ave to get on with life, if I ignore Delaney he might go away. Don't you reckon, Jack?"

Jack knew that this was unlikely, but he didn't have the heart to contradict him. "Well then, if you're carrying on as normal you'd better hurry up and get ready for work, otherwise you'll be late. We'll drop by my place on the way in so I can get changed."

"Nah, it's okay, I'll drive myself there. Why don't you get away now, make sure you're not late."

"I'm not leaving you alone." Jack flinched at the hurt look on Mickey's face.

"I can look after myself Jack. I 'ave to just get on with it."

"Mickey, Delaney's out there somewhere, I'm not-"

"No. I need to act like normal, otherwise 'e's won." Mickey's voice had risen to a shout.

The DCI looked at Mickey for a moment; he registered the distress on his face and sighed. Mickey obviously wasn't going to give in easily, and Jack didn't want to push the DC away. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Okay, I'll see you at the station. I'll let myself out. Be careful."

Mickey nodded, and then followed him anyway, locking and bolting the door after him. Then the DC headed upstairs to get ready for work, making a mental note to take an aspirin before he left to ease his hangover.

* * *

Martin Delaney watched as the object of his attentions locked the front door and headed towards his car. He smiled slightly when Mickey looked around anxiously, knowing that there was no chance that the DC would see him. He knew where Mickey was heading: to work; the bugs that he had placed inside Mickey's house had come in very useful.

It had amused him to listen to Mickey's sobs, and it had also made him impatient. He wanted to see Mickey up close again, to hear him pleading for mercy, and to deny him that mercy. He liked the power that he had over him, it helped him feel strong, and he planned on using that power to its full advantage. But it had made him angry and jealous to know that _his _Mickey was lying in Meadows' arms. He would have to put his plan into action soon, he knew he couldn't wait much longer, but he also knew that he had to be careful. Now that Meadows knew he was out he would be being extra cautious. It wasn't going to be easy getting to Mickey, but he had always liked a challenge.

He waited until Mickey had driven away, and then he moved away from the window that he was watching from, headed down the stairs, out of the door and to the car that he had borrowed off an old friend of his. He pulled away and drove off, heading for Sun Hill police station. A familiar song came on the radio and he began to hum along. He parked opposite the police station and looked up at the window, frowning as a familiar figure walked by the window, talking with a woman. Mickey was his, and the stubborn DC was going to have to learn to accept that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter 6. Thanks to snowfilly for her review of chapter 5. I have to admit that I was hoping for a few more reviews than what I'm getting, I would really love to know what people think of my story, and always welcome constructive criticism. Anyway, thanks for reading. On with the chapter ...**

Chapter 6

Max Carter hadn't been at Sun Hill very long, and he would be the first to admit that there was a lot he didn't know about Mickey Webb: he didn't know anything about his family for one thing. He didn't know why Mickey had left Sun Hill, then come back. He didn't know why Sam and Neil talked about the close friendship that Mickey supposedly had with DCI Meadows, because he had never seen any evidence of it at work.

But he did know Mickey well enough to know that something was wrong with him; ever since he had arrived at work that morning, Mickey had been jumpy. And when Manson had asked for a volunteer Mickey hadn't jumped at the chance, as he usually did; instead he had insisted that he had too much paperwork. The one thing Max knew most about Mickey was that he hated paperwork, and that he would normally do anything to get out of it. Besides, his desk was already clear. And then Mickey had disappeared, he hadn't been seen for over two hours, and nobody had any idea where he was. Which was why he was knocking on the door to the DCI's office, not quite sure what he was going to say to Meadows. The door swung open, Mickey stood in the doorway.

"Oh, hi Max, Ja-, the DCI's gone out. I'll tell him you were lookin' for him when he gets back."

"No, it doesn't matter. Are you okay, Mickey?" Max had noticed the telltale red rings under Mickey's eyes instantly.

Mickey looked at Max for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, just a bit tired, why?"

"I erm, to be honest, you don't look very good."

"Thanks for the compliment," Mickey grinned, "Seriously though, I'm okay. Thanks for askin', it's nice to know someone cares. Listen, my shift ended twenty minutes ago, you fancy comin' back to mine for a drink or somethin'?"

"Yeah okay." Max waited while Mickey fetched his jacket from the office, the DC also scribbled a note to Jack telling him where he was going, and then the two men walked down to the car park. They both took Mickey's car, as Max's had broken down the day before. But when they arrived at Mickey's house Max stopped him from getting out.

"Look."

* * *

His front door was ajar, and there was a light on in his bedroom. Mickey turned to Max, who was beginning to get out of the car. He knew instinctively who was in his house, just as he knew that he couldn't let Max find out; it had been hard enough coming back to Sun Hill with the people who knew about what Delaney had done to him. He wasn't going to make it harder for himself by telling people who didn't even need to know.

"Max, I'm sorry, we're gonna have to skip the drinks."

"Well obviously, someone's broken into your house."

Mickey shook his head. "It's a mate of mine, he texted me before an' told me he might have to stay the night, he's got a spare key."

"So why's the door open?"

"Probably just to let me know he's in there." It took Mickey five minutes to convince Max that everything was alright, and a further fifteen minutes to drive Max home. By the time he arrived back at his house the door had been closed and the light in the bedroom had gone off. But Mickey couldn't bring himself to go inside to check that Delaney had gone, couldn't bring himself to go in knowing that Delaney had been there.

The logical part of Mickey's brain was telling him to go to Jack's, but he was scared that Delaney might follow. He didn't want anyone getting hurt because of him, least of all Jack. Mickey glanced at his phone, thinking that he could call the DCI. But his mind drifted back to his earlier assertions that he had to get on with life, and he discounted the idea. He couldn't just give in at the first sign of trouble.

So he curled up in the back seat of his car, listened to his mp3 player, and tried to forget the fact that Delaney was probably watching him at that very moment.

* * *

A smile played on his lips as he watched Mickey, too scared to go into his own house. He hadn't meant to get caught; he'd been trying to install cameras in Mickey's house, but when Mickey's car had pulled up outside he had bolted, taking his camera equipment with him. It had been a mistake, but it had worked out well.

From where he was sitting he could see everything that Mickey did. He liked that; liked knowing that there was nothing Mickey could hide from him. When he finally got _his_ Mickey back he would have that all the time, he would get to know every little thing about him; what his childhood was like, what turned him on, what scared him.

He had thought that getting hold of Mickey was going to be hard, yet there he was, vulnerable and within reach. He would make his move once Mickey was asleep, when it was nice and dark. But first he needed to finish packing, he had learnt a few things in prison, and was now even more efficient at covering his tracks. And when he had Mickey, no one was ever going to find him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's chapter seven. Thanks for all of the reviews for chapter 6, it's lovely to know that people are reading, and enjoying, my story.**

Chapter 7

Jack opened the door to his office, expecting to find Mickey, and was instead greeted by emptiness. He knew that he had been much longer than he had said he would be, so long in fact that it was dark outside, but Mickey had promised that he would wait. Panic hit him, and his first thought was that Delaney had his friend, but then common sense prevailed; even Delaney wouldn't have been able to walk into a police station and kidnap a DC. That knowledge had been the only reason he had left Mickey alone in his office. There had been a problem with his son, Ben, who was currently completing a prison sentence. Jack had been reluctant to leave Mickey alone, but he had had no choice. There was a note on his desk, Jack picked it up and scanned it:

_Jack, _

_Gone back to mine with Max, don't worry, I'll stick to soft drinks. I'll give you a ring in the morning so you know I'm okay, _

_Mickey_

Jack felt happier knowing that Mickey was with Max- the new DS was a good man, and was more than capable of looking after himself and Mickey.

But Jack was still worried; Mickey was in denial, trying to pretend that Delaney didn't exist. The DCI had seen it happen too many times, victims trying to ignore their fears, and eventually breaking down. Jack didn't want to see the same happen to Mickey.

* * *

Mickey groaned as a blast of cold air hit him; he had been fast asleep and wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. A gentle hand stroked his cheek and he leant into the touch, pulling back in shock as he woke up properly and opened his eyes. He didn't have time to react, didn't have a chance to shout out for help before a cloth was put over his mouth and he drifted into unconsciousness.

He wasn't aware of being lifted from his car, or of being placed carefully into the back seat of another. Nor was he aware when the car that he had been put in started to move. He didn't wake up during the journey; the chloroform that had been dabbed onto the cloth had made sure of that.

Delaney smiled as he checked his rear view mirror. There was no one around; they would escape undetected and then he would be free to teach Mickey how to behave. To finally claim the DC as his own.

Still smiling, he pulled into a car park that was hardly ever used; he had been there just a few days before, to park his new car. One of his fellow inmates had given him the idea; if he changed cars regularly enough then it would make it hard for him to be tracked. This was the third car in three weeks, and it was owned by a friend of a distant relative of his; he was, essentially, untraceable.

It took him five minutes to get Mickey transferred from one car to the other, the DC mumbled slightly, but calmed when a gentle hand was placed on his forehead. The drugs meant that he wasn't aware of who the hand belonged to. Delaney knew that once the drugs had worn off Mickey would put up a lot more resistance, but that would be part of the fun.

* * *

Smithy sighed as he pulled on his jacket; he was leaving the station after a long night shift, and couldn't wait to get home. But he had a stop to make first. Jack had told him that Mickey had gone home, but he had also told him about Delaney. He needed to make sure that Mickey was safe. Despite knowing that Mickey had gone home with Max, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

There was hardly any traffic, and Smithy reached Mickey's house in record time. He undid he seatbelt, and his hand was on the door, about to get out when he saw Mickey's car. He froze; the back passenger door was open, and there was nobody inside. He jumped out of the car and ran up to Mickey's front door, hammering on it and yelled. There was no answer. He knocked again.

"Hey! This is a respectable neighbourhood, keep it down!" The door to one of the neighbouring houses had opened and a middle aged man was standing in the doorway, looking annoyed.

Smithy made an apologetic face, and then reached for his phone. It was obvious that Mickey wasn't in his flat, and the open car worried him. He had to find out if Mickey was alright.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy this one.**

**Warnings: ****Mentions of child abuse**

**AN: ****Italics are flashbacks.**

Chapter 8

Delaney frowned as another loud moan came from the back seat, and then honked the car horn again. The traffic had been bad ever since they had left London, and he knew that he didn't have much time until Mickey started to wake up - the effects of the chloroform were already beginning to wear off. As the car in front of him finally began to move, Mickey fidgeted in the back; Delaney glanced back anxiously, then turned and stamped down on the accelerator. He had to hurry, otherwise his plans would fail, and he didn't like failure.

* * *

Smithy paced up and down the room, waiting for his colleagues to arrive. He glanced over at Meadows, who was standing next to the interactive smartboard, gazing at the picture of Mickey on the screen. Meadows was heading the search for Mickey; Heaton was away on a course, and had left the DCI in charge. Smithy hoped that Meadows would be able to cope with such a personal case. The door to the briefing room opened and people began to file in, Smithy looked at them; wanting to make sure that Jack had chosen the best to join the search for Mickey.

Max Carter was the first to enter, a bewildered look on his face, he had been called in on his weekend off. Smithy gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing how much guilt the DS was going to feel upon finding out what happened. Following him was Terry Perkins, then Stevie Moss. A few other members of CID entered – Kezia Walker, Stuart Turner and Jo Masters – and then uniform began to arrive. Smithy watched as Tony Stamp, Roger Valentine, Will Fletcher, Diane Noble, Nate Roberts and Ben Gayle entered the room. The sergeant bowed his head slightly to avoid seeing the curious glances that they were shooting at the screen, he knew how embarrassed Mickey would be when he found out that all of his friends and colleagues knew about his past. He corrected himself, _if_ Mickey found out.

Meadows waited as everybody found their seats. Smithy stayed standing, trying to keep an impassive look on his face - he couldn't afford to show any weakness in front of his men. Then Meadows turned to face the room.

"The first thing I'm going to say is that if anybody in here isn't prepared to put one hundred percent into this case you can leave now," Meadows' blue eyes swept the room, looking each person in the eye, and when nobody stood up to leave he continued, "DC Mickey Webb has gone missing, we're pretty sure he's been kidnapped. His kidnapper, a man named Martin Delaney," he hit the screen and a picture appeared, "A few years ago he assaulted Mickey, and was consequently arrested for that, and for the rape and assault of a woman. He's since been charged with murder. Now he's out, and Mickey's gone."

Jack continued, "Now, we've tried to trace Mickey's phone, but we've not had any luck. So we're going to have to find him the hard way."

Smithy listened intently as Meadows carried on speaking, outlining Delaney's background and handing out tasks to various people. He noticed that he was very careful not to specify what Delaney had done to Mickey. The DCI finished, and everyone stood up and began to leave, all with sombre looks on their faces. Smithy nodded at Meadows as he walked past him, took a deep breath, and then left to go about his own task. He had been asked to visit Delaney's mother's old house. When Mickey had been investigating the assault on Rachel Heath Delaney had returned to his mother's. Although the woman had passed away, Meadows was sure that Delaney would have gone back; Smithy only hoped that he would find some sort of a clue as to where Mickey was.

* * *

Mickey was drifting back in time; he made a brief stop at his break up with Mia, found himself by Kate's graveside and then skipped decades, eventually ending up in the flat that he had grown up in…

_Ten year old Mickey crouched behind the sofa, wincing as he heard the sound of a slap. He squeezed his eyes tight shut to try and stop the tears from falling; tears were a sign of weakness. A hand grabbed hold of his collar and dragged him to his feet._

"_Open your eyes, boy, and stop crying." Shaking, Mickey opened his eyes, looking at his father, "You will never ever ask your Mum to cover for you ever again, understood?" Mickey stared past his father, and tried to push past him to get to his mother, who was lying still on the floor. Strong hands held him back, and then pushed him against the wall. "I'll just have to make you understand, wont I?" The first blow hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to double over; the second hit him over the head. After that he lost count, all he could register was the pain, and the fact that, once again, his mother was hurt because of him._

He screamed, and then fell silent as a strong hand covered his mouth. He tried to see who was there, but it was dark. Terror hit him, shouting out; he began to thrash about, only stopping when he felt the cold blade of a knife at his throat. A gag was placed over his mouth, and was pulled tight. Then the light went on, Mickey blinked as the light assaulted his eyes, and then turned his head to see who was there. Deep down, he had known that it was Delaney, but the shock still hit him as he laid his eyes on his captor. The knife was still at his throat, but Mickey didn't care, he just knew that he had to get away. He prepared himself for a struggle, but froze when Delaney's lust filled eyes began to travel down his body. Mickey suddenly felt cold, and looking down he realised why: he was totally naked.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of abuse, although it isn't really graphic. Please do not read if this offends you.**

**Thanks again for the reviews. **

Chapter 9

Mickey immediately attempted to cover himself up, but Delaney pocketed the knife and grabbed his wrists.

"Don't cover yourself up, baby, I like looking at you." Delaney leant forward and spoke softly in his ear, "Besides, I'm the only one who gets to decide what you do."

Mickey tried to pull away as Delaney nibbled on his ear, causing his tormentor to bite down hard on his shoulder.

"Don't resist me, pretty, the longer you resist, the more you'll suffer." Delaney sucked on the wound that he'd inflicted, soothing it with his tongue. "Now, be a good boy and let me put these on you." Mickey's eyes widened as Delaney produced two pairs of handcuffs, and he began to move up the bed, trying to get away.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down the bed. Mickey was still weak from the drugs, so his efforts to fight Delaney off were futile. He cried out as he was backhanded across the face, then whimpered as a cuff was placed a little too tightly on his wrist, the other cuff was placed on the headboard, preventing him from escaping. His other wrist was given the same treatment. Panicking, he began to fight against the restraints.

"Baby, calm down." Gentle, but firm hands held his hips down until his struggles subsided, "Good boy, that's better. If you behave tonight, I'll loosen the cuffs tomorrow, okay?" The hands moved from his hips to his face and Mickey squeezed his eyes shut as Delaney leant in towards him. "I'm going to take the gag off now so you can have a drink of water, but it's no use screaming because nobody can hear you, all it'll do is annoy me, and then I'll put it back on, understood?"

Mickey nodded, still not opening his eyes, and sighed slightly when the gag was removed.

A glass was placed against his lips, and Mickey drank gratefully. A gentle hand stroked his cheek, and Mickey heard footsteps walking away, then the sound of a door closing. He opened his eyes and looked around, to make sure that Delaney had really left the room. Certain that he was alone; Mickey began to fight against the cuffs again. It wasn't long before he began to feel drowsy, and he realised that the water must have been drugged. He cursed himself for being so stupid, and then resigned himself to sleeping.

* * *

Jack slammed the phone down and sat back in his chair, sighing loudly in exasperation; the lead that he had been following had turned out to be false. He was no closer to finding Mickey than he had been five hours ago when he had given the briefing. The phone started to ring, and he snatched it up, hoping that there was some sort of news.

"Guv, it's Max, it looks like Delaney's been hiding out in a house opposite Mickey's. It's been empty for about six months now, but the neighbours have seen a man matching Delaney's description going in and out over the last few weeks."

"Okay, get a forensics team down there. I'm on my way now. I don't want them to touch anything until I'm there, I know Delaney better than any of you. We can't afford any mistakes." Jack hung up, pulling on his jacket as he did so. On the way to his car he phoned Smithy and asked him to meet him at the house, the sergeant was almost as worried about Mickey as he was; he had a right to be there.

* * *

Delaney smiled at the sight that greeted him: Mickey was fast asleep; the drugged water had assured that he was sleeping peacefully. Delaney was glad; he wanted Mickey to have plenty of rest. He walked over to the bed and ran a hand through the DC's hair, he frowned as Mickey shivered, and grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe to cover him with. He walked over to the window and grinned: there were no other houses for miles around, and the road that ran past the cottage was barely used, the occasional car would drive past, but he knew from experience that the occupants of the cars were usually lost tourists who wouldn't pay any notice to the cottage.

His plan had worked perfectly, he had escaped London undetected. A whimper came from the bed and he turned back to gaze at the object of his desires. Mickey. He knew that the fun part of his plan had just begun: he was going to break Mickey, he was going to teach him his place, and he was going to model him into the perfect lover. Eventually he would be able to trust Mickey enough to take him out, and then they would travel far away from the United Kingdom to start their new life together. Delaney ran his tongue over his lips, and then bent over to place a light kiss on Mickey's forehead. He began walking to the door, pausing to take a last look at his treasure, before quietly shutting the door.

Delaney walked into the kitchen and began to take things out of the cupboards. The cottage was already stocked for his every need, he had sent his contact a list of things to get, and he hadn't been let down. Grinning, he began to prepare the recipe. He was going to make his favourite meal: enchiladas. Mickey was going to be hungry when he eventually woke up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Happy New Year everyone! Still can't believe it's 2009 already. Thank you again for the reviews for chapter 9. It's always nice to know that people are enjoying my story.**

Chapter 10

_Fifteen year old Mickey ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The rain poured down, but he kept on running, ignoring the fact that he was dressed only in his football kit. He had to get away, he had to get away from his father, had to get away from his Mum, had to get away from everyone. People were staring at him but he didn't care. Tears were falling from his eyes, but he ignored them, blood was trickling from the cut on his forehead, but he let it; he just had to get away. He wasn't watching where he was going, the ground was slippery, he tripped and then all he knew was blackness._

Mickey jolted awake, panting heavily. He registered the pain in his wrists, and then remembered where he was. Panic flooded through him as images of Delaney flashed in front of his eyes: Delaney with a knife, Delaney with a pair of handcuffs, Delaney standing over him in a warehouse.

Mickey's face was covered in sweat, and he kicked off the blanket that covered him, needing to cool down. Mickey's muscles ached all over, and he groaned as they began to cramp. He fought the urge to cry out for help; he didn't want to alert Delaney to the fact that he was awake. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, and then looked around the room, searching for a way out; Delaney couldn't keep the handcuffs on him forever. Mickey knew that Jack would be looking for him, that his colleagues would be doing everything they could to find him; he wasn't sure how long he had been with Delaney, how long the drugs had kept him out cold for. Mickey shook himself, it didn't matter: the longer he had been there, the more chance there was that Jack was on his way to save him.

He really needed the toilet, but he remembered the humiliation that he had surfaced earlier in the day when Delaney had sat and watched him as he went. He could wait a little longer.

There was a wardrobe in the far corner of the room, and a chair next to the double bed. The only other thing that Mickey could see in the room was a large chest underneath the window. Mickey frowned as he realised that something was wrong. It was too quiet; there wasn't any traffic noise, only silence. His heart sank as he remembered Delaney's words from earlier: _'it's no use screaming because nobody can hear you.' _The panic resurfaced as he wondered where he was, Mickey wasn't even sure if he was in England anymore.

* * *

Smithy stood in the empty bedroom and looked out of the window, Meadows at his side. He had arrived about half an hour ago, and upon entering the house had found Meadows hovering around the forensics team, a desperate look on his face. Smithy had promptly intervened, gently leading Meadows away so that the forensic team could get on with their job. Now Meadows was looking straight into Mickey's bedroom.

"Delaney's been watching Mickey ever since he got out, which was three weeks ago. He's been planning this all along."

Smithy turned to Meadows as the DCI spoke, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't 'ave known, sir."

"Call me Jack."

"Jack, this ain't your fault."

"Yes it is. I knew that Delaney was out there, but I still left Mickey on his own. I shouldn't have listened to him when he said he'd be alright. Call me if forensics manage to pick up on anything."

Smithy watched silently as Jack left the room, then turned back to the window and frowned. He felt just as guilty as Jack did, but he knew that there was nothing else he could have done. Mickey had changed a lot over the past few years, however Smithy knew from first hand experience that the DC was still as stubborn and independent as ever. Mickey would never have allowed them to give him protection. Still the guilt refused to go away, and with a jolt he realised that even if they managed to find Mickey, it probably never would.

* * *

Mickey's stomach rumbled as the smell of home-cooking reached him; he wasn't sure how long it had been since he had eaten. But he didn't want to eat, he felt sick, and wasn't sure if he could stomach any food. His heart sank as he remembered the drugged water that he had drank before, and he realised that he couldn't eat or drink anything that Delaney gave him: he had to stay alert.

He resumed his survey of the room, his eyes stopping once again on the window. Mickey sighed, resigned to the fact that he was for now unable to reach his only escape route. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the door closing. He looked around and flinched when he saw Delaney walking towards him.

"Hungry?"

Mickey scowled and looked away from Delaney, trying to keep his breathing even.

"You have to eat, pretty." Mickey continued to look the other way, "Mickey."

Mickey turned, startled. It was the first time Delaney had ever called him by his first name. Delaney was holding out the plate of food, and Mickey's mouth watered at the sight of it.

"Just a little bit, baby, it isn't drugged if that's what you're worried about, look." Delaney cut himself a piece of the enchilada then placed it in his mouth. "You have to keep your strength up, I want you to be nice and strong.

Mickey considered for a moment, and then nodded; Delaney was right, he would need to keep his strength up. Delaney smiled and sat down on the edge of the double bed.

"Open up then."

Mickey looked at the fork in Delaney's hand, and then back up at his captor.

"I'm feeding you today, pretty."

Delaney spoke softly but firmly and Mickey opened his mouth, not wanting to find out what Delaney would do to him if he refused. He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that he was surrendering too easily.

* * *

Jack paced the CID briefing office, listening intently as his team informed him of the latest developments. Mickey had been missing for five days; in that time they had had no sightings of Delaney, and Mickey's captor hadn't contacted the station at all.

Smithy explained what he had found out. Forensics had failed to find any incriminating evidence of Delaney in the empty house, only a few clothes fibres. However, Smithy had had a hunch. He had asked them to examine Mickey's house, paying particular attention to the living room and bedroom, both of which could be seen from Delaney's hide out. The forensics team had found bugs all over the house, which meant that Delaney had been listening in on Mickey as well as watching him. They had also found a fingerprint on top of one of the wardrobes in Mickey's bedroom.

The new information made Jack feel even more angry at himself: he hadn't even thought to check Mickey's house while he was there. He muttered a few words to his colleagues and watched as they hurried out of the room. Then he turned to the interactive smartboard, Mickey's face smiled out at him. Jack could still remember the day the picture had been taken.

The station had taken part in a charity football competition about a year after Mickey had first arrived at Sun Hill, and Mickey had been the star of the team; scoring goals in all five of the matches. Almost single-handedly Mickey had won them the trophy. The Mickey in the picture was laughing at something that John Boulton had said; Jack realised sadly that it had been a long time since he had heard Mickey laugh, too long. He turned away from the picture, promising himself that he was going to hear that laugh again even if it was the last thing he did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings: Once again this chapter contains scenes of abuse, and, although they are not graphic the implications are. Please don't read it if this offends you. **

Chapter 11

Mickey swallowed the last mouthful of his meal and watched warily as Delaney stood up and left the room. He breathed a small sigh of relief as the door closed behind his captor and he heard footsteps getting further and further away. And then he had a thought. It was beginning to get dark outside and Delaney hadn't left the light on. Mickey wasn't scared of the dark, but he dreaded the idea of not knowing what was going on and of being totally helpless. He was shocked to find himself hoping that Delaney would come back into the room, if only to switch the light on for him.

A cramp in his leg pulled Mickey out of his thoughts. Over the past few days he had been suffering from more and more cramps. Apart from toilet visits, Delaney had refused to let him walk about, and the resulting pain was agonising.

All pain was forgotten when Delaney returned a few minutes later, although it had felt like hours to Mickey. His abductor stood in the doorway and watched Mickey, never taking his eyes off him. Mickey shuddered under the gaze and his breathing began to quicken; he forced himself not to blush.

"Beautiful. Absolutely exquisite and you're all mine."

Mickey began to shake as Delaney started to saunter over to the bed.

"I've waited for this moment for so long now. I've held back so that you could get used to the idea of you and me. I've washed you and fed you and talked to you. Now it's time." Delaney reached him and Mickey instinctively tried to move away.

"You've got nowhere to go pretty, so just enjoy it." Delaney reached out and began to lazily trace a pattern on Mickey's chest.

"Get the hell off me, Delaney." Mickey tried to pull away from the touch, and then yelled out as Delaney pinched his nipple. Delaney leant over and began to nibble on an ear.

"Don't ever talk to me like that again. You're mine, and if I want to touch you then I will, if I want to hurt you then I will, if I want to take you hard and dry then I will. Do you understand?"

Mickey whimpered as harsh fingers tugged at his nipple, and nodded.

"Good boy." The hand began to travel further down his chest; it came to a rest on his stomach.

And then Mickey felt lips on his own, gentle at first, and then hard, forceful. Delaney's tongue forced its way into his mouth and began to explore. Mickey vaguely realised that this was something that Delaney had never done to him before, not even at the warehouse. Delaney pulled back a little, leaving Mickey's lips bruised and swollen, and then he smirked, "I'll be back in a moment, pretty."

Delaney left the room once more, leaving Mickey shaking, with tears rolling down his face.

* * *

"You want to what?" Jack turned and stared at Smithy, a look of absolute horror on his face, sure that he must have misheard.

"I think we should tell the press that Mickey's missing, get the public on the look out for Delaney." Smithy repeated.

"No way. Mickey would kill us."

"Okay then, how about we just tell them that Delaney's someone we want to help us with our enquiries? That way Mickey won't even need to be mentioned."

Jack thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Get someone to make the arrangements for a meeting with the press."

Smithy nodded and left the room.

Jack sighed and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He hadn't been home in days, and if he was going to meet with the press, he needed to look smart.

Jack was climbing back into his car, freshly showered and shaved, when his phone rang.

"This is DCI Meadows."

"Guv, it's Callum, I thought you'd want to know, they've found a stolen car abandoned in a car park, they've found a partial print, it's Mickey's."

"I'm on my way." Jack felt a small wave of hope wash over him, it seemed that Delaney had made his first mistake; he only hoped that this mistake would be the one that led them to Mickey.


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, firstly thanks for the reviews for chapter 11. They were very much appreciated, as always.**

**Secondly, I realise that it's been a little while since I've updated, so sorry about that. Hope it's worth the wait. **

Chapter 12

Mickey lay broken, shaking and bleeding on the bed. He was gasping for breath and tears were falling from his eyes. Delaney took in the sight with a small smile. Mickey had resisted. After years spent in prison, and the months planning Mickey's capture, Delaney couldn't wait for more. But he knew that he had to; he had hurt Mickey far more than he had intended to.

Sighing, Delaney headed into the bathroom and filled a basin with warm water; he grabbed a first aid kit from the cupboard, and slung a few towels over his arm. In the warehouse, the first time he had taken Mickey, he hadn't taken the time to clean him up, to look after him. But it was different now: he had a responsibility to look after Mickey, because he needed Mickey to be healthy for many years to come, and because Mickey was his property.

He noticed, absent-mindedly, that he was getting low on toothpaste, and made a mental note to get in touch with his contact. He couldn't afford to run out of everyday supplies.

He returned to the bedroom, taking no notice of the way Mickey flinched away from him. Delaney began to clean him up, one hand laid gently on Mickey's back to stop him from struggling. Mickey trembled beneath him, and Delaney was shocked to feel how cold he was. He made Mickey turn over and then covered him with a blanket. Then he left the room, taking one last look at his prisoner before he did so.

* * *

Jack looked around the car park where they had found the car, and sighed. The area was notorious: uniform were regularly called out to the locality to deal with muggings, drug dealers and prostitutes. He knew from past experience that the majority of people in the area would be no help at all; they would most likely refuse to even look at Delaney's picture.

He turned back to watch as the forensics team continued to examine the car, searching for anything that could be a possible lead, as they had been for the last hour. Jack had insisted on being involved with the practical side of the case, but it had been a long time since he had had to wait around for a lead that was never going to surface. Callum Stone stood at his side, watching the scene with a grim look on his face. The sergeant hadn't known Mickey well, but had liked him; he seemed to be determined to do anything that he could to help in the search for the DC.

"They're not going to find anything," Jack spun around to face Stone, "Can you stay here? Just in case. I'm going to head back to the station and see what I can do there."

For a moment Stone looked like he wanted to object, but then he nodded. "Okay, I hope something turns up, Guv."

Jack walked back to his car and climbed into the driver's seat. The silence hit him immediately, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, troubled. He always drove without music, and it had never bothered him before. Memories assaulted him: Mickey turning his car radio up and singing along, Mickey rifling through his CD collection, Mickey singing karaoke. Suddenly the silence seemed like a death sentence, Mickey's death.

Jack reached over and turned the car radio on, skipping through the stations until he found one that Mickey would have approved of. It felt strangely comforting, listening to Mickey's music; it was like a part of Mickey was still with him.

* * *

The press conference had gone well: in less than half an hour Jack had managed to convince the media to print an appeal to the public, asking them to come forward if they saw Delaney. The reporters that Jack had met with had asked for details, but Jack had refused, telling them only that it was a matter of urgency and promising them some details about another case. Anything to protect Mickey.

One of the reporters had mentioned Mia Perry, and Jack had cursed himself for not thinking about her. He only hoped that Mia had the sense and decency not to mention what she knew about Delaney and Mickey.

Jack grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and left his office. He was going to speak to some of his old informers, and to some of Mickey's to see if they knew anything. He began to make his way down the stairs, but froze when he saw Smithy at the bottom of them. The sergeant was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, his skin was pale and there were bags under his eyes. Smithy's jaw was tightly clenched, and Jack understood why only too well; his own jaw had been clenched a lot over the past few days. It was an attempt to stop tears from falling.

He wanted to go to the sergeant, wanted to tell him that everything would be alright, that they would find Mickey safe and sound. But he couldn't bring himself to move towards Smithy; didn't have the courage to go and comfort him. Instead he turned and walked quietly up the stairs back up to his office, knowing that no words could ease the pain that Smithy was feeling, the pain that almost matched his own.


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay. It's a while since I've updated. Have almost finished all of my mock exams, just have art left to do. Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, it's always good to know what people think about my writing. **

Chapter 13

_Mickey hurried out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang signalling the end of the day. He began to walk the familiar route home, slowing down a bit once he had gotten away from the college building. He'd promised his Mum that he'd be home as soon as possible, so that they could have some time together before his Dad got home from work. Mickey turned into his estate and headed up the steps, taking them two at a time, as always. He headed out onto the landing, and froze. There were two policemen standing outside his front door, and a paramedic was entering the flat. Mickey broke into a run, ignoring the protests when he broke through the police cordon. The two men at his front door tried to grab him, but years of practice had made Mickey an expert at dodging. _

_Two paramedics were crouched on the floor, one of them moved to the side, and Mickey swore as he caught sight of his mother's beaten body. She was conscious, but her eyes didn't seem to be as focused as they should have been. There was no sign of his father anywhere, but Mickey knew that he had done this. He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see a man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, standing there. He was in plain clothes, but Mickey had been around long enough to know a cop when he saw one._

"_You must be Michael, I'm Ken Mitchell. Can we talk?"_

_Mickey nodded, his eyes fixed on the paramedics working on his mother. _

"_Them presents in the corner, who're they for?" _

_Mickey glanced up, surprised at the question, and then returned his gaze to his mother. "It's my birthday, my seventeenth."_

"_Well, I'd say happy birthday, but…" The man trailed off._

"_What do y'want to know?"_

"_Who did this?"_

_Mickey looked at the man, trying to figure out if he was trustworthy. He'd heard Mitchell's name quite a few times; most of his friends seemed to trust the detective. He made his decision._

"_It was my Dad, my Dad did this."_

* * *

Smithy downed the whiskey in one, and then held out his glass for another, the barman smiled knowingly and handed him the bottle. Nodding at the barman, he made his way over to a table in the corner. It had been a fortnight since Delaney had abducted Mickey, and they were still no closer to finding him than they had been at the beginning. The appeal in the press had resulted in lots of phone calls, but none of them had proved to be solid leads; a few had mentioned seeing Delaney around Mickey's area before the kidnap, but no-one seemed to have seen him since.

He glanced up as the door swung open, and watched silently, with clenched fists, as Nate and Ben ordered their drinks, sharing a private joke. Smithy looked away, unable to understand how they could trade jokes and smiles while Mickey was missing. He poured himself another shot of whiskey and took a sip, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

Smithy sighed, remembering long nights spent with Mickey at the very table where he now sat. In the early days of their friendship they had spent many happy times talking and laughing, much in the same way that Ben and Nate were. When he had first met Mickey the DC had been 25, ambitious, and seemingly carefree. They had immediately become friends, finding that they had quite a bit in common. When Mickey had been attacked by Delaney, it had been Smithy who had found him. He could still remember the scared, helpless, look in Mickey's eyes when he had walked in on him trying to clean himself up. And he would never be able to forget the look of shock and anger and betrayal when Mickey had found out that the DCI knew, that Smithy had told him.

The incident had left their friendship in tatters; at first Mickey had been unable to understand why Smithy had told people, and, although Smithy knew that Mickey now understood his actions, their friendship would never be the same easygoing relationship that it had been before.

Mickey had returned to Sun Hill the same person, but Smithy knew that anybody who bothered to look closely enough would notice subtle differences. Like the way Mickey moved away when anybody invaded his personal space, like the way he no longer flirted with every woman he met, like the fact that he didn't smile as much as he used to. The biggest and most obvious difference was the way he had distanced himself from the DCI; Smithy wasn't the only one who had noticed and missed the easy banter that the two men had used to trade.

They still talked, and they still looked out for each other in a vague, discreet, kind of way. But now Mickey was constantly on edge whenever he was around the sergeant, and Smithy was constantly aware of what he was saying around the DC, trying desperately not to say the wrong thing.

Another large measure of whiskey was poured, and downed in one. Then Smithy stood up, walking deliberately over to where Ben and Nate were standing before placing the bottle on the bar and handing the barman a twenty, relishing the guilty looks that appeared on their faces.

The cold air hit him as soon as he opened the door, and as he turned to head back to the station, his mind drifted back to the night when it had all started: the night where Mickey had gone running out of the pub. He wondered whether he could have handled it better, whether he could have changed things. Then he shook his head; there was no point dwelling on the past, not while Mickey was still out there with Delaney. For now he had to focus on getting his friend back.

Walking along the road towards the station he made a promise to himself and to Mickey. When, _if,_ they managed to find Mickey safe and sound he would do everything in his power to get their friendship back to the way it used to be, the way it was meant to be.

* * *

Delaney rushed into the bedroom when he heard Mickey shout out; the DC was tossing and turning, caught in the throes of a nightmare. He hurried over to the bed and began to gently shake Mickey. It took him a few minutes, but Mickey finally began to stir. His eyes opened and he looked up fearfully, then his expression became pleading.

"Please, please d-don't let 'im hurt me." Mickey began to sob, and still caught somewhere between his nightmares and reality, he did not resist when Delaney climbed onto the bed next to him and pulled him close. "Please don't let him hurt me, Jack."

Mickey shouted out when he was slapped on the face, then fell quiet when a blow landed to his stomach. Years of abuse from his father had taught him that it was better to stay quiet, better to put up with the beatings. More blows rained down on him, and he curled up, waiting until Delaney had stopped.

When he did finally stop he pushed Mickey around so that he was lying flat on his stomach, and then leant over to speak in his ear.

"Never, ever mention his name again, understand?" Delaney trailed a light hand down Mickey's back. Mickey shivered, but didn't answer, "I don't like being ignored, Mickey, answer me."

"I-I understand."

"Good. After all, I was good enough to comfort you after a nightmare, that's not really a good way to thank me is it?"

Mickey shook his head, desperately trying to find somewhere in his own mind to escape to, but images of his father, Gregory, Liz and Mia flickered through his head. He felt Delaney's weight shift, and then heard footsteps getting further and further away. He had been left alone again, like when his mother had left him alone with his father to go out to work, like Kate had left him alone, like Liz and Mia had left him alone. Like Jack had left him alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you, as always, to Rose and Becca for the reviews for chapter 13. Don't know what I'd do without you two!**

Chapter 14

Mickey had no idea how long he had been Delaney's prisoner - the days and nights had all seemed to merge into one. He had asked Delaney for his watch back, but had been refused. The fact that he didn't know what time, or even what day, it was bothered Mickey, who, contrary to popular belief, liked everything to be organised and structured.

The silence was deafening. Usually, Mickey constantly listened to music; in his house, his car, at work. It pained him that the sound he heard most was his own screaming.

Delaney had continued to assault him, yet Mickey found himself longing for the man to come into his room, longing for the human contact, despite the form it came in.

Mickey rubbed at his wrists; Delaney had removed the handcuffs a while ago, and had placed a chain around Mickey's ankle. The chain meant that Mickey could now walk a little way around the room, but did not allow him near either the door or the window. Mickey had filled the lonely hours by pacing up and down, partly to think, and partly to try and regain some strength in his legs. The cramps continued to plague him but they were no longer as aggressive and common as they had been. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around the room, trying once again to find a way out. Yet again he came to the same conclusion: the only ways out were the door and the window, and there was no way he could reach them with the chain around his ankle. Even if he was eventually allowed over to the window Mickey knew that he could not leave: someone, presumably whoever had owned the house before Delaney, had barred the windows shut. The door clicked open and Mickey jumped up, instinctively backing away from Delaney.

"Hello, pretty-boy, I've got a treat for you today," Mickey looked curiously at his jailor, "Come here." Mickey obeyed, and did not resist when Delaney pulled him in for a kiss. Over the past few weeks he had learned not to defy his captor. Delaney took a key out of his pocket, then knelt down to unlock the chain around Mickey's ankle, and then stood back, studying Mickey for a moment before smiling.

"Hold my hand, baby."

Mickey obeyed without question, but trembled when Delaney rubbed a thumb over his lips.

"You're learning, pretty, you're learning. And today you're going to see the rest of our home."

Mickey's eyes widened as he realised that he was going to be allowed out of the bedroom, without any restraints on. Delaney led him out of the room and down a passage into the living room. Mickey looked around, taking in the new surroundings; he noticed the front door, but did not allow his eyes to rest on it. He was well aware that this could be his only opportunity to escape, and he wasn't about to risk it by making his intentions obvious.

"What do you think, baby?" Delaney's hands moved to wrap around Mickey's waist; Mickey jerked slightly as Delaney began to nuzzle his neck.

"It's nice."

Delaney smirked into Mickey's neck and loosened his grip slightly.

Mickey jumped into action. He brought his elbow back and felt a quick stab of satisfaction at the pained shout that Delaney made when the elbow made contact with his stomach. Delaney recovered from the blow quicker than Mickey had anticipated, and aimed a punch at Mickey's head. Mickey ducked, his instincts taking over, and then he pushed his captor against the wall. Delaney's head hit the wall with a crash and he slid to the floor, unconscious.

Mickey swore and knelt down to check for a pulse, Delaney couldn't die on him, he didn't want it to be that easy. He found one and breathed a small sigh of relief before pushing himself to his feet. He brought his foot back, about to kick Delaney in the stomach, and then froze. He couldn't afford to waste time, he needed to find his clothes, and escape.

He began to search through the house for his clothes; he found them in another bedroom, folded up neatly in the bottom of a cupboard. Mickey pulled them on, and then rushed back out into the living room. He headed for the door, yanked it open, and came face to face with Delaney. Mickey yelped as Delaney grabbed a hold of him. He began to struggle, but, without the element of surprise, he was no match for Delaney.

Mickey yelled out in pain as his bruised and battered body was flung down on the bed. The cuffs were snapped back onto his wrists, and Mickey watched in horror as Delaney took a knife out of a nearby drawer. With an expert grace Delaney cut Mickey's clothes off him and threw them into the corner. And then all Mickey felt was pain.

* * *

Smithy rushed into Jack's office without knocking.

"We've got a witness."

Jack looked up from Delaney's file, his eyes widening as he took in the excited look on Smithy's face. "What do you mean?"

"A witness has come forward, Delaney's been spotted at a place called Tonwell, they reckon he's hiding out in a house nearby."

Jack stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. "Well, let's get down there and speak to the local police, we'll need their cooperation." Jack watched as Smithy smiled for the first time in days, and he was surprised to find himself smiling too. They were one step closer to finding Mickey, one step closer to making Delaney pay.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you once again for the reviews of the last chapter, I know I sent you all responses but I just wanted to say it again. Here's the next chapter, only a few more to go after this. Enjoy.**

Chapter 15

Delaney stood back and looked Mickey up and down. Fresh bruises and cuts covered his body, along with a few burns. The DC was trembling badly; his eyes were squeezed tight shut and he was biting his lip in an effort not to cry. His lip began to bleed again and Delaney moved forward to lap the blood up, relishing the whimpering noise that Mickey made at the action. The body struggled beneath him and Delaney moaned at the sensation. Mickey stilled, Delaney looked down and groaned on finding that Mickey was unconscious; his fun would have to wait until later.

He moved away from the bed and turned to look out of the window, deep in thought. He hadn't been expecting an escape attempt, and what was worrying was how close Mickey had come to succeeding. Extra security plans were already running through his head, but he couldn't focus on them. The anger was beginning to build up again, and he had to make a conscious effort not to hit Mickey's unconscious body. Instead he directed his anger at himself; he hadn't been vigilant enough in Mickey's training. He hadn't satisfied Mickey enough, and that had led to the escape attempt. Mickey would not go unpunished, and it would never happen again.

* * *

Jack looked sideways at Smithy; the sergeant had his eyes fixed firmly on the cottage in front of them. From the outside, the cottage looked pretty average, but if their information was correct, it was the place that had been Mickey's prison for the last three weeks.

"We have to go in now, get Mickey safe." Smithy proclaimed.

Jack moved away from the sergeant, filled with anguish. As Mickey's closest friend, there was nothing he wanted more than to just charge into the cottage. As a police officer he knew that they had to wait; they needed to be sure that they had the right place.

"Smithy, I want to get in there as much as you do. But we have to make sure that Delaney's in there. And that no harm will come to Mickey when we go in."

The sergeant turned to face him, stony faced, and nodded. "Okay, but I don't like waiting."

Jack glanced out of the window at the white van that contained a few of the local police, as well as some of their own uniform. Mickey was a popular member of the Sun Hill team, and there had been plenty of volunteers that were eager to help. Jack wanted Mickey back safe and sound more than anything. But a part of him was terrified about what they would find. He wasn't sure if Mickey was still alive, and, even if he was alive, he had no idea what sort of condition he would be in.

It had been a long time since Jack had ever believed in a God, but he hadn't forgotten about how strong Mickey's faith had been when Kate and his mum had died. Closing his eyes, he muttered a silent prayer for Mickey, praying that they would get to him in time.

* * *

Mickey screamed. The pain coursed through him as Delaney slowly, expertly, dragged a knife across his back; once, twice, three times. He felt the blood as it oozed out of the wounds and began to travel down his back, only to be stopped by Delaney as he pressed a cloth onto the newly carved pattern. Mickey bit the pillow beneath him to stop himself from crying out again. His back was throbbing, and he ached all over, but he had already screamed once; he couldn't show any more weakness.

* * *

The door was kicked in easily, and Jack charged in, suddenly mindless of the correct procedure. Nothing mattered except getting to Mickey. The scream had shocked them all, but, terrible as it was, it meant that Mickey was still alive. Now he just had to find his best friend and start making up for past mistakes.

Smithy was by his side, and for that, Jack was grateful. The sergeant had been a rock over the past few weeks, and Jack knew that if he needed help with Mickey, Smithy would be there.

* * *

Mickey could feel himself drifting into unconsciousness, and he fought desperately to stay awake. Delaney had already told him what would happen if he passed out again, and his captor was watching. His sight began to get blurry, and there was a pounding in his head. The thumping noise wouldn't stop. Mickey groaned, wanting it to go away. Then there was a crash, and he jolted back into full consciousness. There were voices everywhere, shouting his name, shouting Delaney's name, shouting orders. Then there were hands. Mickey started, curling himself up protectively, but the hands refused to go away. And then there was a voice; familiar and yet so strange.

"Mickey, it's Jack, you're safe, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore."

Then through all of the pain, all of the fear and the shame, he could feel protection, and relief, and love. Jack.

* * *

Smithy glanced over at the figure on the bed; Jack was leaning over him and Mickey clung tightly to the DCI. He was injured, bleeding, thin and shivering, but he was alive. When they had heard Mickey scream all sorts of situations had ran through his mind, and all of them had resulted in Mickey dying.

The sergeant turned to look at Delaney, who was being restrained by Will. Delaney had a thin smile on his face.

"He was even better than last time. I can see why you like him, sergeant. But he's mine now. Forever."

Smithy's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"You're never gonna hurt him again. Get him out of here, Will."

A distressed groan filled the room, and Smithy glanced over at Mickey, who was looking around at all of the officers in the room. Smithy understood immediately and ordered everyone out of the room. He followed them but turned at the door, he met Jack's eyes and held his gaze for a minute, unspoken promises flitting between them. And then he left the room. For Mickey's sake, he was going to deal with Delaney personally.


	16. Chapter 16

**Here's the next chapter, thanks again for the reviews of chapter 15. I hope everyone's still enjoying the story.**

Chapter 16

Jack had always hated hospitals. He hadn't been in them much as a child, but in his first week as a police officer he had been stabbed and hospitalized for two weeks. Over the years he had been lucky; despite his risky career, he had only been injured a few times since. But Mickey… Mickey had spent quite a lot of time in hospital. Jack could clearly remember the last time he had accompanied Mickey to the hospital. The examination at the specialised rape unit had left Mickey with a distrust of all doctors, and Jack was well aware that this time would be even more agonising and degrading for him.

Paramedics had checked Mickey over at the scene, and had decided that he was well enough to handle the journey back to St Hugh's. He paced up and down the hospital corridor, throwing glances at the door every now and then. The doctors had ordered him to wait outside, despite Mickey's stubborn protests that he needed Jack with him. Jack had watched as Mickey had disappeared into the room, shaking and pale; once again he had been forced to leave his friend on his own. He had already told the doctors that he would be willing to help nurse Mickey back to health if it meant that he didn't have to stay in the hospital. Mickey needed to be somewhere where he felt safe.

Jack hated the waiting the most. On the drive back into London they had got stuck in traffic, and waited in silence until the cars began to move again. The sound of Mickey's laboured breathing had prompted Jack to stick his sirens on as he sped towards the hospital. But he had no way of speeding up the waiting process there. A hand touched his shoulder, and Jack turned to face Smithy.

"Delaney?" Jack asked.

"He's in the cells, charged with kidnap, rape and GBH. Prosecutor reckons that he'll be put away for life this time."

"He should never have got out in the first place." Jack was aware of how bitter he sounded, but he didn't care.

"I know. How's Mickey?"

"He's a mess. Knife marks on his back, cuts and bruises all over. There's even a couple of third degree burns. He's been tied up, beaten, and repeatedly raped. Doctors are examining him now, but you don't need to be an expert to know that he's hurting. And he knows that half of the relief have seen him." Jack bowed his head, remembering the embarrassment that Mickey had felt the last time.

"Smithy, we have to make him understand that it's not his fault. He can't leave, not again."

Smithy nodded and leant back against the wall.

Jack saw the lines of worry on Smithy's face, and felt a strange sort of comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only one waiting.

* * *

Mickey pulled his clothes on, gasping as the material slid roughly over his wounds. The doctor had turned away so Mickey coughed to let her know that he was ready. Last time he had had a male doctor, and the idea of a man touching him there after Delaney had repulsed him. But the female doctor had been worse. The pity had been clear in her eyes, and she had been so gentle with him, as if she thought he would break.

The doctor gestured towards the door, and Mickey understood immediately. The examination was over; she wanted him to go out into the corridor. He froze; going out there would mean facing Jack. It would mean seeing the pity and embarrassment in his eyes. Mickey shook himself: Jack wouldn't hurt him, besides, he needed him.

Mickey nodded at the doctor and opened the door. Looking along the corridor, he spotted Jack and Smithy standing side by side. Smithy was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed; Jack had his eyes fixed intently upon something. It took a few moments for Mickey to realise that the something was himself.

He shrank back as two doctors hurried by, then walked unsteadily towards Jack. The DCI muttered something to Smithy, who stood up abruptly and turned to look at him. Mickey attempted a smile and it seemed to prompt the men into action. Smithy rushed forward and threw his arms around Mickey, who stiffened slightly at the contact but then relaxed into the embrace. They pulled apart, both slightly embarrassed, and looked at Jack. The DCI had tears rolling down his face.

Mickey looked at Smithy, who looked about as unsure of what to do as Mickey felt, and then Mickey moved forward and carefully placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Jack, c'mon, I need you to drive me home, please." The tentative request seemed to get through to Jack, and the DCI wrapped his arm protectively around Mickey's shoulders and began to lead him out of the hospital. Mickey leaned against him gratefully.

* * *

Smithy watched the two men leave, surprised at how easily Mickey was letting Jack touch him. His mind drifted back to the last time, when Mickey had flinched away from peoples touch, and realised that even then he had allowed Jack to touch him. In fact, the DC had almost seemed to need the physical contact.

The sergeant began to head for the car park; there was a lot of paperwork to do back at the station, and he needed to try and stop the rumours that he knew would already be spreading. Relief flooded through him; they had found Mickey alive. Now all they had to do was be there for him during his recovery and repay the acts of friendship that Mickey had always been so willing to dish out.

* * *

Jack glanced over at Mickey as they waited at a red light. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, and his forehead was creased into a deep frown. The DC refused to catch Jack's eyes; instead, he was staring at the rope burns on his wrists.

"Just to warn you, your place'll be a bit of a mess, the crime scene examiners aren't known for putting everything back in their right places."

Mickey looked up at Jack, an expression of alarm on his face. "I can't go back there. D-he's been there. Don't make me go back there, please."

Jack cursed himself for being so thoughtless. "Mickey, it's fine. We'll go back to my place; I can drive over and pick up some of your things later."

Mickey nodded and turned to stare out of the window. The lights changed and Jack began to drive. The silence in the car unnerved him; usually, when Mickey was his passenger, he couldn't get the DC to shut up. But the only sound that could be heard was the occasional gasp of pain from Mickey when the car went over a bump.

They pulled up outside the house. Jack was about to get out of the car when he heard Mickey curse under his breath, Jack's eyes saw what Mickey was too embarrassed to tell him. The DC's hands were shaking violently, and he was unable to unclip his seatbelt. A faint blush covered Mickey's cheeks. Gently, Jack reached over and completed the task for him. Mickey nodded in thanks and got out of the car.

Getting to the front door was a slow, agonising, process. Mickey had once again leant on Jack for support, and Jack couldn't help but notice how pale his friend was. Mickey was aching all over and it pained Jack to see him in so much discomfort. They finally made it inside and Jack helped Mickey down onto the sofa.

Jack went into the kitchen and began to fill a glass of water so that Mickey could take some painkillers. He took a few moments to compose himself then made his way back into the living room. He paused in the doorway, observing his friend.

Mickey was sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring out of the window, a look of horror on his face.

"Mickey, what's wrong?"

The DC turned at the sound of his voice. "They know, don't they?"

"Who knows what, Mickey?" Jack sat down next to the DC.

"Everyone at the nick, they all know what happened to me. They know everythin'."

"No. Mickey, we told them that he had assaulted you, but we didn't tell them what kind of assault."

"Y'think that matters? They saw me back there; they saw the state I'm in." Mickey's voice was rising and Jack laid a hand on his arm. He snatched it back when Mickey gasped in pain.

"Do you think they care? To them, you're still the same person."

The DC made a noise that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. "What? So they've always thought of me as weak, an' dirty an' stupid, and,"

Jack pulled Mickey towards him, and started to rock him gently. He couldn't help but think about the fact that this was something that he had never done with his own children.

Mickey began to sob, and Jack muttered comforting words. The DCI waited calmly as all of the hurt and fear and pain that Mickey had felt over the past couple of weeks came flooding out. Jack felt his own eyes well up with tears, but he refused to let them fall. Mickey needed him to be strong.

Memories of the past year began to flitter through Jack's head. Guilt consumed him as he thought of the way he had distanced himself from Mickey, the way he had ignored him, treated him as though he was nothing but a colleague. The though of how selfish he had been sickened Jack, but he pushed it aside. He could deal with his own thoughts and feelings later; right now Mickey needed him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Here's chapter 17. Only the epilogue to post after this. Thanks again for the reviews for the last chapter, and to everyone who has put this story on their alerts and favourite lists. Looking forward to hearing what people think of this chapter. Enjoy**

Chapter 17

_Blue eyes watched as he struggled with the bonds around his wrists. His skin was red and raw, but he refused to stop trying. Then he froze. He could feel the hands; they were all over him, touching him, nipping him, tracing light patterns over his chest. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. Then his mouth was covered by another. A tongue forced its way into his mouth; he knew that he should try and get away. But he couldn't move. And then the tongue moved from his mouth, and the weight shifted off him. He could feel the heavy breathing in his ear, could sense his attacker leaning in._

"_You're mine now, pretty boy."_

Mickey jolted awake, panting heavily. He kicked the covers off and eased himself up off the bed. He could hear Jack snoring in the next room, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thankful not to have woken him this time. Jack had spent hours comforting him after nightmares, and the DCI had become paler each day. Mickey didn't want to be a burden.

He had been at Jack's house for over four weeks. The DCI had taken time off work to look after him. The only time Mickey had been alone had been about three days previously when Jack had told him that he had urgent business to attend to. Physically, Mickey was much better. His body still ached, but he was now able to walk on his own, and the pain was no longer as intense. He hadn't had much of an appetite but his tee-shirts were no longer as baggy as they had been.

Since he had been rescued, Mickey had had little contact with the outside world. Smithy had been to visit him, but he had refused to see anyone else. His feelings puzzled Mickey, whilst a captive he had yearned for even the smallest connection, but now he was free he was too ashamed to see anyone.

Mickey glanced over at the clock and sighed when he saw that it was only 4 am. Then he groaned. Today was his first day back at work. Jack had tried to convince Mickey to stay away a little longer, but Mickey had insisted. He wanted to stay at Sun Hill, but the longer he left it, the harder it would be to go back. He had to face his fears.

He began to tremble at the thought of seeing all of his colleagues. But he pushed it to the back of his mind. He had to show them that he was strong, and the only way to do that was to prove to them, and to himself, that he was still able to do his job. Sighing, he climbed back into the bed and tried to get back to sleep.

* * *

Mickey put the fork down on his plate, hoping that Jack wouldn't mention how little breakfast he had eaten. The DCI shot him a concerned glance, but cleared the food away without comment. Mickey glanced at the clock; they would have to leave for work almost immediately.

Jack had offered to drive Mickey to the station, and, as he wouldn't be working on the streets for another week, Mickey had gratefully accepted.

"You ready, Mickey?"

The DC glanced up, then nodded at Jack.

"Come on then, let's go."

The journey to the station was strained. Once again Mickey hadn't moved to put the radio on, and the DC hadn't spoken a word to Jack during the whole drive. Mickey looked down at his hands as they pulled up outside of the station.

"Do they know I'm comin' back today?"

"I'm not sure, I told Smithy and Heaton, don't know if they told anyone or not."

Mickey took in a deep breath, and then exhaled loudly, trying to calm his nerves.

"C'mon then, Guv, y'don't wanna be late." Mickey climbed out of the car, and waited for Jack to do the same before heading towards the entrance. For Mickey, it was like stepping into hell.

Eyes followed him as he made his way up to the CID office. Eyes filled with pity, and concern, and curiosity. Mickey didn't meet their gazes; he just kept on walking, trying to ignore the way his colleagues stepped out of his way when he neared them. He could hear the whispers, could feel the tension in the air.

Jack was the only reason that Mickey didn't turn around and run away. The DCI walked beside him, muttering reassurances every so often. As they walked up the stairs Mickey stumbled, and Jack caught a hold of him, steadying him with a gentle grip on his arm.

Then they reached the office. The occupants turned to look at him, the room was silent. Mickey walked over to his desk and sat down, being careful not to meet anyone's eyes. Once again it was Jack who saved him.

"What are you all standing around doing nothing for? Back to work." There was a flurry of movement as everyone returned to their tasks.

The telephone on his desk began to ring, and Mickey stared at it, remembering the last phone call he had received at his desk. _You're all alone. You always were dedicated to your work._

"Mickey, you going to get that?" He glanced up into the concerned face of Max Carter. The phone stopped ringing.

"Sorry, I-"

"Mickey, it's fine. You going to be okay?"

Mickey nodded, ignoring the voice inside him that was telling him that he was never going to be okay again. He had beaten that voice last time, and he was going to beat it again.

* * *

Jack was hovering anxiously in the doorway, in the same position that he'd been in for the last half an hour.

Mickey was staring intently at his computer screen, his hand gripping the mouse just a little too tightly. Jack was reminded of the way Mickey had gripped his chair the previous week, when he had taken the DC's victim statement. And earlier still, when he had found Mickey clutching an empty shot glass, tears of guilt and contempt streaming down his face.

All around the DC, people were laughing and chatting as their lives carried on as normal. It seemed that Mickey's return hadn't really affected CID. Stuart was chatting up a new PC, Kezia was reading a study book, they were all the same as ever. It was as if nothing had ever happened to Mickey.

A brief moment of anger gave way to understanding. None of them had been at the cottage, none of them had seen the state Mickey had been in, none of them had sat away at night listening to the sound of heart wrenching sobs.

He watched as Max walked past Mickey, brushed past him just a little too close. Mickey flinched, bowed his head for a moment, and then went back to work. Jack sighed, lost in thoughts.

Mickey would be going back out on the streets soon, but it didn't mean that he was better. Heaton had asked him to decide who to partner Mickey with. Mickey had asked who was going to be babysitting him. Jack looked around the room, weighing up the options. Kezia was too inexperienced. Stuart, too insensitive. His eyes landed on Terry and he made his decision. Mickey and Terry were mates, and Terry was a knowledgeable officer who had experience with sexual abuse. More importantly, he was sure that he could trust Terry. He only wished that he could take Terry's place and be there to watch over Mickey.


	18. Epilogue

**A big thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed, favourited or alerted this story. This is the last chapter, I can't quite beleive it. **

**The last thank you must once again be to Rose, who has given me her time, skills and encouragement. **

**Enjoy.**

Epilogue

Smithy stood in the doorway and watched as Mickey filled in a form. The DC had been back at work for five days, and he seemed to be doing okay. In two day's time, Mickey would be going back out onto the streets.

He frowned as the rope burns on Mickey's wrist came into sight; they still had a long way to go. Jack had told him that Mickey was still haunted by nightmares every night, and the DC had been keeping his distance from his friends at work. All except one.

The sergeant had been surprised when Mickey had approached him on the afternoon of the first day. He had been expecting Mickey to avoid him, like he had the last time Delaney had attacked him. However, over the past couple of days, Mickey had been a frequent visitor to his office. Although Mickey had refused to tell him all of the details Smithy now had a good idea of exactly what had been done to Mickey during his capture. The knowledge filled him with so many different emotions: sadness, hatred, guilt.

In return for Mickey's story, Smithy had told the DC about the frantic search for him. He had also made sure that Mickey was aware that he wanted to try and rebuild their friendship. They were taking it one step at a time, but Smithy was fairly sure that they would get there eventually.

It wasn't just _his_ relationship with Mickey that had improved.

Smithy had watched as Mickey's friendship with Jack had gone from strength to strength. Mickey had started calling him Jack at work again. The DCI had sat with the DC as he had trawled through hours of paperwork.

Mickey was alone in the office; the DC had obviously stayed behind to finish up some work. Smithy watched as Mickey threw his pen down onto his desk and stood up. The DC walked over to the small radio that had been kept in the office forever. Smithy knew for a fact that it hadn't been used for years. He leant against the doorframe and grinned as Mickey glanced up at him, a warm smile on his face.

Sweet music filled the air.


End file.
